


Star Light, Star Bright

by Mira_Jade



Series: A Universe to Wake From Sleep [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Acxa & Keith (Voltron) are Siblings, Character Study, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Krolia (Voltron) is a Good Parent, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_Jade/pseuds/Mira_Jade
Summary: Moments, before and after being the Defenders of the Universe. A collection of ficlets and drabbles.Next up: Pidge & Lance & Hunk -She turned sixteen somewhere out over the Triangulum galaxy.





	1. The Warrior's Shock (Allura & Shiro)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! This is just a place to store various odds and ends that didn't make it into my longer stories in this 'verse. For any newcomers, this series is now canon divergent, so if anything doesn't mesh with what you know of canon, that's why. For those who choose to stay, even with that in mind, I thank you for reading and hope that you enjoy. :)

The extra hours her new Black paladin spent with the gladiator bot, oftentimes at night when his fellow Humans required sleep, did not escape her attention.  
  
Allura quickly understood that this was more than mere practice for him; more than training to keep his body honed and ready for their battles that were inevitably yet to come. Instead, Shiro fought as if facing an enemy only he could see. His narrowed eyes, which she had in so short a time come to associate with empathy and warmth, were grey chips of stone set within his face, hardly visibly through the frenetic whirl of his motions. There was a tightness to his limbs that failed to ease for movement, and his blows, she watched with a practiced eye, were overwhelmingly powerful to face the droid. He held nothing back, so much so that more than one uppercut from his Galran arm sent the practice bot sparking and stuttering – and it was built to withstand an Altean's strength, at that.  
  
His form was impressive, she could admit; he was clearly leagues away from his fellow paladins in this regard. However, it did not take much to deduce _why_ that was so. Shiro had a wealth of experience to draw from that his comrades, safe and nestled in peace on Earth as they'd been, did not. A year a slave for the Galra Empire, she struggled to wrap her mind around that truth, and a champion in the ring before the masses all the while. Of course he'd learned how to survive - violently so.  
  
That thought was one she cared for but little. For his sake, she’d rather him have Keith’s unpracticed fury or Lance’s eager determination to shine. Anything but this. She wished Shiro’s demons far and away from him, no matter the sharply honed blade and emerging leader his trials had borne for her crusade. It was difficult . . . painful, even, for her to watch.  
  
Especially when, every so often and with a randomness she could not predict, there were times when Shiro would freeze up and go still in the middle of a bout. Instead of striking, his eyes widened and his face paled. He seemingly lost track of time and place in those moments, held captive as he was to some foe and memory only he could see. Whenever this happened not even the impending threat from the bot could move him to action, and he’d go down hard, every single time.  
  
Shiro was always slow to pick himself up after his episodes, as if he could not immediately shrug his stupor away. His stance was ever unsteady as he recovered himself, and his shoulders quivered. He made fists of both his hands, yet his shaking still did not subside.  
  
That night, Allura refused to let him struggle alone. They’d be leaving Arus soon, and she’d see her paladins armed with every possible advantage – even for this. _Especially_ for this.  
  
“On Altea, we called this the warrior’s shock,” she said – announcing her presence in advance with her voice so that she wouldn't startle him with her approach. She didn't know how or where his mind was, and she wouldn't be a further burden to him if at all possible.  
  
Thankfully, it seemed that she had given him just long enough before joining him on the training deck. Shiro’s mouth tugged in a wry line, even if his eyes were still closed and his fists remained clenched. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slow, in and out, clearly regulating his breathing to regain some semblance of control.  
  
“We have a different name for it back on Earth – it’s not as pretty,” his voice was low to return. A long moment passed, in which she continued to let him gather himself without interruption. Finally he ran his organic hand through his hair and sighed heavily through his nose. Only then did she take a step closer. “I . . . I thought I’d have better control over it by now.”  
  
His words were muttered – mumbled even. Though his eyes were now open, he refused to look up and meet her gaze.  
  
For that, her own brow furrowed. Did this . . . shame him? she puzzled to understand, so foreign and _alien_ an idea the concept was to her. Many things, however, about her Terran allies were proving to be so.  
  
“On Altea,” she started, her voice slow and soft, “the sages philosophized that the Life Givers did not create us for battle – that was something we, instead, brought upon ourselves through mortal imperfection and standing up in justice against those imperfections. Those who fight, even honorably for others, tend to bear scars on their mind as real as any of the body. It only means that you have survived; you have endured. Like any wound, this is a scar that can heal, and fade.” Others, of course, remained – but that was something that she did not have to say aloud. Shiro understood.  
  
“So,” he chose his words carefully, “did the sages figure out a way to fix it? Your . . . warrior’s shock?”  
  
“It’s not something a jaunt in a cyro-pod can cure, unfortunately,” sadly, Allura shook her head. “Nothing more than time, and patience were found to be effective.”  
  
A heartbeat passed. Shiro sighed. “I figured as much,” he was still unable to meet her eyes. Yet he slowly unfisted his Galran hand. He stared down at his inorganic palm as if he didn’t recognize it as his own. His eyes were dark, and haunted. “It’s the same on Earth. Even with all the advancements we’ve made in medicine, we still don’t have a lot of answers for how the mind works.”  
  
In reply, she did not allow herself to second guess her actions. Instead, she reached over and covered his Galran hand with both of hers. Her skin was soft and warm and _alive_ next to his cool metal planes and hard lines, and she held on tight, hoping that the unfamiliar tech would be able to convey those positive sensations for what they were, at the very least. Shiro had gone very, very still before her. His eyes were wide and shaded with curiosity to finally look up and meet her stare. Boldly, she held onto his gaze with a determination that was as strong and real as her desire to bring an end to Zarkon’s reign. Distantly, she wondered when the last time someone had touched him with affection had been. Even he, she suspected, regarded this part of himself as unwelcome and invasive and _foreign;_ it never would have been kindly regarded. For the thought, she curled her fingers about his own, and held on tighter.  
  
In answer, he did not immediately draw his hand away. Instead, a long moment passed before his hand of flesh and bone came up to cover her own. Gratefully, he squeezed, and, as much as she had set out to grant him some semblance of comfort, she found herself drawing strength from his gesture in return. There was a tell-tale heat burning behind her eyes, and her chest was tight. Perhaps, loathe as she was to admit it, he wasn’t the only one combating his demons that night.  
  
“If you’d like,” for some curious reason, she could feel heat rising to her cheeks to say, “I could stay and help you? You’ll find I make a better partner than the bot – I won’t hit you when you’re down.”  
  
For that, Shiro gave an amused snort – but his eyes had brightened for her words. They’d returned to that same warm shade that she thought (that a part of her _knew_ ) she was beginning to depend on. “I thought that you were too strong to practice with us breakable Earthlings?” he teased.  
  
“For you, I think I can make an exception,” she smirked to return. She squeezed his hand one last time before letting her touch fall away. “Don’t worry, paladin, I can hold back; I’ll go easy on you.”  
  
Slowly, Shiro smiled in reply – a real smile that she felt her own mouth stretching to return. He’d taken her challenge seriously, then. “Oh, you don’t have to hold back, Princess – never on my account.”  
  
“Well then, let me just say that I will stick this through with you,” she offered instead. “For as long as is needed.” Until he either healed from his wounds, or accepted his scars for what they were.  
  
Shiro looked down at his Galran hand, and then up at her, considering. In his eyes, she thought, there was the soft glow of . . . _something_. Something that was maybe gratitude and trust and even the beginnings of affection; the first seeds of friendship, more so than the partnership that had been established between them out of necessity. It was a bond she didn’t take lightly, not after having lost as much as she had.  
  
“Alright then, your highness,” he walked a few paces away from her, and settled into a defensive pose. “Hit me with your best shot.”


	2. The Distance Light Travels (Krolia/Keith's Father)

She’d grown so used to keeping a schedule by Earth’s single yellow sun that, at first, it was a difficult habit to break. Earth’s days were shorter than the standard universal time they observed in keeping with the rest of the empire, and the nights quickly came and passed. She now rose earlier than most of her fellow blades – which was quite a feat with the sleep cycles many of them kept, yet she was usually the first to tire and turn in early when not on duty. (And that was most certainly _not_ because of anything else her body was currently experiencing, _thank you very much, Kolivan._ The blademaster may have had her unswerving loyalty, but as a male of their species his opinion on this particular matter was moot.) Their base, safely nestled between the violence of their warped blue sun and twin black holes, knew no concept of night and day. The corridors were perpetually dim, just as the air was faintly metallic with a telltale artificial odor. During her sojourn away, she’d become accustomed to bright natural sunlight and an oxygen rich atmosphere, so much so that she now craved those conditions.   
  
. . . yet, perhaps more than anything else, Krolia had grown used to falling asleep nestled against someone she loved and waking up to see his eyes first thing every morning. She missed those eyes, just as she missed his smile; she missed his warmth and his humor and the way his blood-beat would leap when she walked into a room and the way his pulse slowed to match her own when the slept, even though he was not Galra in the slightest and couldn’t do so with any conscious intention. She missed -  
  
\- well, she just . . . _missed._ Her longing felt as a knife stuck deep between her rib-bones, there to stay even as the wound began to fester around the blade, refusing to heal. She constantly felt as if she was trying to inhale when her lungs were pierced with steel; no matter how she tried, she was never able to fully draw in a breath.   
  
It was always worse at night, when she didn't have her duties to distract her and the bare, impersonal shape of her quarters turned oppressive with silence. No matter that the second movement was quickly giving way to the third, sleep refused to grant her body solace; her endeavors were a fruitless quest, even with the _rhi_ -bark tea Antok had thoughtfully brewed for her. Instead of tossing and turning – a difficult thing, with her condition being in such an advanced stage as it was – she opened her eyes to the dark and finally surrendered to awareness. Without bothering to curb her impulse, she reached over to grab her communicator from the bedside stand. It didn't matter that she’d already played the message so many times over, she had to watch it again. She knew every frame and had long since memorized each word, but she was drawn to the recording the same way their dying blue star was held in thrall to the laws of gravity, even as those selfsame laws tore it apart; she couldn't look away.   
  
It took a moment for the picture to settle and focus on a familiar sight. Her mate was standing outside of their small home, on the path cutting through what little bit of a vegetable garden he’d been able to coax to grow from the dry, arid soil. Earth’s modest, relatively young sun was just finishing its descent beyond the western horizon, painting the cloudless sky in bands of scarlet and rich violet before giving way entirely to black. There, Eloy had their child outside to show him the stars as they winked into view. ( _Cassiopeia, the Dippers both Big and Little,_ and _Aries_ and _Scorpius_ and _Leo_ and so on – the Terrans defined what they could see of the cosmos by only eighty-eight formations, when the stars of the universe were beyond the counting. She reflexively looked for those same constellations even now, no matter how many galaxies she was away from Earth's Milky Way.)  
  
Yet, that night, it wasn’t the stars that held her mate’s attention – well, not entirely, at least. Visible in the warm light from their home, Eloy’s face was split in a grin as he held his hands out to steady their toddling son. He wasn't quite holding on, but he was ready to jump to Keith's aid if his balance failed him. Even though Krolia had seen this recording a dozen times over, she watched it again with bated breath, enraptured just as she was the first time she’d seen her cub walk. He’d taken his fledgling steps without her; he was growing so, _so_ quickly, all while she was too far away to see.  
  
Yet, the now familiar pang she felt for that thought couldn’t quite win over the smile she felt stretching on her face. She felt such pride fill her: _her son._ Look at how strong he was growing, so fast! That was _her_ son; her blood had half made him so, she wanted to revel in delight for the triumph she felt pulsing through her veins.   
  
_“Yesterday was the first time he managed to walk a few steps without falling, and now he seems determined to toddle about wherever he can – he’s trying his best to get into anything and everything, the lil’ scamp. He . . . he’s_ _developing quickly, at that, much more quickly than if he was just a Human babe,”_ as always, the slow drawl of Eloy’s voice settled in her ears with a warmth all its own. Imperceptibly, Krolia felt some of the tension leach from her bones for the sound. _“He’s growing in leaps and bounds, every day now.”_  
  
When she was first forced away from Earth, Keith was only just beginning to crawl. He was newly sitting up on his own and holding his arms out to her with those gurgling noises that meant _ma’a_ and _want_ and _expectation_. Krolia drew in a shaky breath, wishing that her nose was full of his scent just then, such as sound and image alone couldn't hope to convey. Her arms flexed, but she was unable to fill them, not as she truly wanted.  
  
“ _I make sure to talk about you as much as I can, and I’ve been showing him your messages,”_ even without hearing her words, Eloy always managed to guess her reply. That knowing, at least, the distance between them had not erased. _“I’ll make sure you’re here . . . even when you’re not, for as long as it takes.”_  
  
For that, she gave a slow exhale as she allowed his words to sooth her. Their parting was not indefinite, she reminded herself. If Maahes was kind, she’d be back with her family before her cub said his first words. She’d done her duty as a disciple of Marmora and one sworn to the Blade; she’d returned to her clan and shared what she knew of the Voltron lion they’d found in the Sol system. Even now she hoped that she would be returned to Earth to stand post as the Blue lion's officially assigned guardian . . . it was a mission she longed for, in every possible way. But she wouldn’t know her course until her elders made their decision. In the meantime, all she could do was wait . . . wait, and watch.  
  
. . . and _want._  
  
_“I went out to the caverns today to make sure our sensors were still in place. We’ve had some wind storms go through, and a few of the relays were touch and go,”_ Eloy continued. _“I took Keith with me this time. I don’t know if it was the summer heat or missing you that finally got to me, but I swear that I saw a light wink in the lion’s eyes when I brought him in . . . I don’t know how else to explain what I saw. Keith tried to march right on through the barrier before I could stop him – he seemed right surprised when it bounced him back and landed him on his rear.”_ There, his smile turned crooked, and his eyes took on a teasing glint. _“He looks so much like you when he’s frustrated, darlin' – when he's angry, too. If you’ve ever worried about a likeness before, well, there you have it.”_  
  
Krolia rolled her eyes with a huff. She was a blade of Marmora; through her training she had mastered holding a stoic countenance under trial; only triumph or death would ever keep her from achieving her goals. Her mate had no idea what he spoke of, _obviously._  
  
But . . . it was a grace all its own, Eloy’s smile. It helped, even when she still noticed the shadows his own attempts for mirth couldn’t completely erase. He seemed tired, she worried; his sun tanned skin looked bruised about his eyes, even in the half-light, as if he wasn’t sleeping enough. A Human body required more rest than a Galran one, she wanted to counsel, and he needed to take care of himself. But he had many things to keep him awake in the night, she understood all too well – and that was even before caring for their son in the little hours. He missed her as much as she missed him _,_ she never doubted the strength of their bond _._ And, there he was, raising their child _alone._ She, no matter how her duty had forced her hand, had made a deliberate decision to leave her cub to be raised by one, where nature had intended two. It . . . it wasn’t right, and an all too familiar guilt settled within her anew and _tore_ for the irrefutable truth of that knowledge. Her course wasn’t _right,_ yet she couldn’t fix it. Not then; not yet.  
  
. . . but soon, she comforted herself. _Soon._  
  
_“I miss you,”_ Eloy’s voice seemed to stick in his throat to say, fast on the wings of her own thoughts. If she was there, she’d be able to hear the way his blood-beat caught; she’d be able to scent his grief and try her best to sooth it. But . . . she was so far away from Earth. For now, this cold means of communication would have to suffice. _“We both do.”_  
  
Belatedly, he cleared his throat and then shook his head as if to brush away whatever strong emotion had overcome him. He gathered himself, and she did the same as he turned the communicator down towards their son. _“But, until then, he’s a beautiful part of you to hold onto, darlin'. I don’t regret a thing,”_ she could still hear his voice even as he disappeared from view, and her field of vision filled with her child instead. _“How about you show your ma’a how well you’ve been walking?”_ Eloy’s voice turned coaxing as he spoke to Keith. _“Go on then, no need to be shy.”_  
  
As if he somehow understood, Keith began walking towards his father with wobbling, ungainly steps. He gummed his toothless mouth open and closed, with his arms held out and eager to be picked up once he finished his path. By the angle of the communicator, Krolia could almost fool herself into thinking that he was coming straight towards her - that it was _her_ arms he wanted, and _her_ presence that was causing him to smile such a smile. She focused on his growing mop of dark hair and the shape of his face as the recorder filled with his picture – in the curious way of hybrid genetics, he looked more and more like her every day, even though he had his father’s eyes and clearly Human coloring. For that, at least, she was grateful. It would make life on Earth so much easier for him. The Terran people . . . they still thought themselves alone in the universe, and their first reaction to anything different than themselves was _fear._ A species who felt themselves threatened was capable of anything, especially if they thought they were protecting their own – that, she knew from Eloy’s stories as well as her own dealings as a spy in the Galra Empire. To be caught in a crossfire as brutal as that could be was not a future she wanted for her child, not in the slightest.  
  
But she couldn’t think on such thoughts for very long, not when she had so perfect an image before her. Eloy scooped up their child when he was close enough, and Keith gave a peal of babyish giggles for the swift change in his perspective. There, staring at her family, Krolia couldn’t help but smile as warmth filled her heart - like sunlight finally finishing its journey of lightyears to fill her spirit and revive her with sorely needed energy. As they both said their goodbyes to the recorder – well, as Eloy did, and Keith made nonsense noises to mimic his father’s speech – Krolia fell back against her single pillow with a sigh. There, she let the hand that was not holding her communicator come down to cover her midsection, and pressed with a gentle pressure to assure her daughter that all was well.  
  
Throughout the entirety of the recording, she could feel the second heartbeat within her body leap for hearing the voices in the message. It had taken her a truly embarrassing amount of time to understand the changes in her own body when she first returned from Earth. But she’d been desensitized by her grief, and, finally, it had taken Kolivan politely clearing his throat to ask if she was _well_ for understanding to crash into her with all the force of a meteor striking land. How could she not have immediately recognized the smaller blood-beat that was cradled within her own? There was a second presence her body was nurturing, growing all the louder with new life as the days passed. Her impending motherhood was there as plain as a star was bright for anyone with their senses about them, and, for so long, Krolia had been blind to see what her own body was telling her.  
  
Yet, even if she had been slow to understand at first, the ever growing shape of her child was now impossible to deny. Quite through accident, her mate wasn’t the only one left to raise a child alone, she thought wryly. She'd have quite the surprise to share when she - when they _both_ returned to Earth.  
  
Which, hopefully, would be before very long. Soon, she’d find a way for them to be together again; she was a daughter of Marmora's ilk, after all, and she refused to fail in the task set before her. _Victory, or death,_ she thought wryly, would keep her from her goal.  
  
Yet, until then:  
  
“This is your father, little one, and your brother too,” she introduced, her voice soft, but full. She thumbed the command to play the recording over from the start, and stroked the skin of her belly as her daughter kicked against the tangible pressure of her fingertips. She could feel her child’s blood-beat drowsily ebb to echo her own, only to spike with interest for the sound of her father’s voice. “And they already love you so very, very much.”  
  
There, surrounded by her family in what way she could, Krolia let her thoughts drift, and vainly tried for rest.


	3. Satellites (Pidge & Hunk & Lance)

She turned sixteen somewhere out over the Triangulum galaxy.  
  
That was the name they gave it back on Earth, anyway – the three spacefaring races who originated from the spiral of stars and planets called their home something that had far too many contestants for Pidge to pronounce aloud, and the Castle’s servers had previously identified it as Galaxy X2-13z256. But the people of the Triangulum galaxy were the latest they'd help free from Zarkon's clutches, and thus the newest members of the Voltron Coalition. That counted as a victory to celebrate, knowing that they were slowly but surely fulfilling their mandate as Defenders of the Universe.

It was amazing, what they were accomplishing together – really it was, but Pidge still struggled to smile as Allura played their role of diplomat that evening. As always, Shiro stood just at her right hand while the rest of the paladins flanked her with Coran. Pidge usually had difficulties keeping patient through political niceties, anyway, and it was just _so hard_ to pay attention while Allura went through the Prime race’s leader’s sixteen children in appropriate rank and custom to formally thank each and every one of them for their contribution to the alliance then. She’d thankfully been paying just enough attention so that Lance didn’t have to elbow her side too hard when it was her turn to address the prime of the Prime race (redundancy, much?) and give her own respects as the Green paladin of Voltron. Somehow, she managed to play her part without tripping over her words too much, never mind that she knew Coran would undoubtedly have a list of helpful pointers to share later. ( _Oh, joy._ _)_  
  
But, no matter how she tried, she couldn't bring herself to sit through the banquet that followed. She only pushed her food around her plate with a listless expression as Hunk shot one worried look her way after another. He’d spent so much time with representatives from the Prime, Major, _and_ Ultra peoples to make sure they had a menu that was palatable to everyone in attendance, and he was proud of what he’d cooked up as a result. Guilt churned in her stomach, but she could only manage another bite or two before excusing herself. It was better that she just disappeared entirely instead of sulking through the rest of the diplomatic event; she didn’t want to be a black cloud on the festivities. Or at least that was her reasoning – Coran would have better known just how much of a faux pas she was creating, and that too was probably (definitely) going to be a part of his post-mission briefing.

Still, no matter the dent she may or may not have been putting on their relationship with the three races of the Triangulum galaxy, her mind was made up. Following her escape, she was all too happy to shuck her armor in favor of her comfortable, familiar clothes from Earth and sneak down to Green’s hangar. Her lion had been rumbling in the back of her mind the entire evening, wrapping herself around her thoughts and humming through her veins as if she could seek out and sooth whatever hurt there was to mend. But there wasn’t anything Green could tinker with and fix; not this time. No, Pidge thought miserably, the only thing that would settle this particular ache was everything that was just beyond her reach.  
  
“I’m okay, girl,” no matter how much she teased Lance for his easy dialogue with Blue – and now Red, in a way, she found herself doing much the same with Green when they were alone. “I just have work to do; I can’t keep smiling and pretend like everything is fine when it needs to be done.”  
  
Hunk had even figured out how to make a giant tiered cake for the celebration, she felt a burning sensation grow behind her eyes to remember. _C_ _ake,_ like she hadn’t had in -  
  
\- well, in exactly a year now. But _that,_ she definitely wasn’t thinking about. Not then.

Instead, she opened her laptop and swiped her hands so that the constantly running search engine she had going moved to hover right in her line of sight. (Altean tech, Pidge still couldn’t help but gush, was _beautiful_ in its simple complexity.) She ran through her parameters to refine them before feeding in the new intelligence the Triangulum races had shared, and then sat back to watch. There was nothing else she could do.

Eventually, her eyes started to cross from staring at the flashing peoples and places for so long. The blurring edges of her vision was the only clue she had as to the passing of time, so thoroughly had she been engrossed in her task. But Green stirred in the back of her mind to rumble a fond greeting, and that was all the warning she had before -

“ - hey, Pidge, we thought we might find you here.”  
  
At the sound of her name, Pidge squinted to focus on the world beyond her search again. With a shake of her head, she pushed her glasses up her nose so that she could rub the heels of her palms over her eyes. When she looked up again, Hunk and Lance were standing right in front of her. Each of them were out of their armor, she noticed with some surprise, with matching looks of concern pinching their expressions.  
  
Green gave a huff of satisfaction in her mind, and Pidge rolled her eyes as understanding hit her. Her friends had been _summoned,_ it seemed. _You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you?_ she huffed. _Tattle-tale._  
  
But, much like the over-grown house cat she actually was, Pidge had the mental sense that Green was unimpressed with her annoyance. She simply gave a lazy turn in her consciousness, and flicked her metaphorical tail in satisfaction. _It’s what you require,_ _so we provided, paladin,_ Green _felt shared spoke_ into her mind. For her lion, it was that simple.  
  
Well, it may have been cut and dried for her quasi-sentient vaguely-telepathic alien super-weapon. For Pidge, however, it was anything but.  
  
But she managed a wobbly smile in greeting, even as she fought the urge she had to sigh outright. “Shouldn’t you guys still be at the banquet? You know that Allura’s going to have a cow if we all bail at the same time,” Pidge played the one card she had left.

“Um, since when has Allura being mad or not ever stopped you from doing anything?” Hunk shrugged, unconcerned.  
  
“And,” Lance added breezily, “that’s exactly what we said when Shiro told us to follow you. Allura overheard and was confused as to how one could actually _have_ a cow. Much amusing Earthling to Altean translation then followed.” His mouth melted into a cheesy grin, as if Allura learning the ins and outs of Human slang was the most endearing thing in the universe.  
  
Hunk gave Lance an unimpressed look, but the roll of his eyes he gave was fond. “After we explained," he took over for his friend, "she told the Prime of Primes that you had a coming of age ritual to attend to, and us with you – so we’re covered. No one's missing us."  
  
"The prime even wanted to offer his peoples’ own . . . _unique_ traditions to help celebrate," Lance couldn't help but add with a snort. "But don't worry - Allura did some verbal somersaults to save you from that. I think that she and Shiro won themselves a few hours of watching an interpretive dance now, though – so we’ll have to make it up to them later. They’re taking one for the team.”  
  
Somehow, their words didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Pidge snorted, even as she fought the internal urge she had to wince. _Shiro_ was the one who wanted them to follow her? He’d flown with her father and brother for so long as part of the Kerberos mission, where this day had come and gone once already. No doubt he already knew exactly _why_ she was in such a mood, and if he thought he was helping, he wouldn’t have any qualms about sharing what she considered to be private with her friends. He was too much of a white knight to do anything else.  
  
“So,” sure enough, Hunk continued, “why didn’t you tell us it's your birthday? Sixteen years old, huh? That’s quite the achievement.”

“Not really; it’s just another day,” Pidge shrugged. Feeling somewhat miserable, she drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin atop her knees. She stared at her search as it continued to run, patiently waiting to catch a glimpse of her father – or Matt; her heart wasn’t picky just then. “Honestly,” she mumbled, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, it may be just another day, but it’s still an _important_ day,” Lance didn’t quite agree. “This is a day you’d be celebrating back on Earth.”  
  
Oh, she knew _exactly_ how boisterously Lance’s giant family could throw a party for any given reason. But her birthday would have been a more subdued occasion in the Holt household. The same as she did every year, her mother would’ve woken her up right before the clock turned four by crawling into bed with her and saying: _At this very moment,_ _I held you just like this for the first time. You were so small – even smaller than your brother_ _was_ _, yet you cried like you wanted to let everyone know you had arrived. You_ _were born_ _ready to take the world by storm,_ _Katherine,_ _and you haven’t changed since_ _._ A family dinner would've followed that evening, with all of her favourite foods and desserts, nothing more than that. It was simple and intimate and Pidge liked it that way – or, rather, she _had_ liked it that way.

An unbearable pang of missing tore through her for her memories. As much as she wanted to find her father and Matt, she really wanted a hug from her mom just then. This was the first time in sixteen years that Colleen Holt hadn’t woken her up on her birthday, and Pidge had stayed awake and stared at the minutes as they ticked away on her chrono instead. No matter that they’d all sent messages to their families to let them know that they were okay, and would be home as soon as they could manage, any more regular contact than that was impossible; Earth just wasn’t advanced enough to manage frequent inter-galactic communications – not yet, anyway – and they carried on for the most part in silence. It was a change she was still struggling to grow used to, even months later.

“Turning sixteen isn’t the problem – not really,” Pidge tried to find the words to explain. If she was honest with herself, she was amazed that she was only _just_ sixteen; she felt so much older than she actually was. “It’s just . . .”  
  
“On days like this, you miss your family even more?” Lance finished softly.  
  
“And, sometimes, we’re so far away that sometimes you worry that you’re forgetting them,” Hunk added as he sat down on the floor of the hangar right next to her. “You worry that they’re forgetting you, too.”  
  
“With how big the universe actually is out here,” she added, “Earth doesn’t even seem real to me. Not anymore . . . not after everything we’ve seen and done. Being Katie on Earth, and _me_ here right now . . . it doesn’t feel the same.”  
  
Sometimes they weren’t even specks in the night sky, when, once, traveling to the edge of their solar system had felt like venturing out into the vastness of the cosmos. It was a mind boggling thought, whenever she let herself dwell on it for too long – and that was even before considering their resisting the Galra empire and all that it truly meant to be a paladin of Voltron.

Lance followed suit with Hunk, and pulled up a seat on the floor. It helped to have one of her best friends on either side of her, with their shoulders bumping up against and bracketing her own. She felt a hesitant flush of comfort push its way through the cold of her thoughts as the mental bond she shared with her teammates filled with wordless expressions that she couldn’t untangle for individual strands. She only knew that Lance and Hunk were anchors just then, letting her find her footing in her own mind. The burning sensation that’d been building behind her eyes finally gave way for tears, yet she didn’t fight them as they silently fell down her cheeks, even when her glasses fogged. She had to let her grief free; she felt as if she’d burst, otherwise.  
  
“You can see this galaxy from Earth, did you guys know that?” her voice was thin to voice the thought that’d been heavy on her mind that day. “It’s in the Triangulum constellation, in our northern sky. My dad taught Matt and me how to find it, and Mom knows the stars too. So, tonight I just hope . . .”  
  
She hoped that her mother was looking up, and somehow knew that she was looking down on her just the same. Even more than that, she hoped that her father and brother were somewhere out there too, thinking of her and staying as safe as they could be. She hoped that they all knew that she hadn’t abandoned them; she was determined to make her family whole again. Someday she’d find them, she _would_. No matter what.

Yet, until then, she had these guys.  
  
“I know you’re not actually my sister,” was the only thing Lance could say after the silence stretched on, “but I think of you like one, Pidge.” She felt the length of his arm press against hers, and knew that he was thinking of his own family. “I’m just glad that, sixteen years ago, you came into this world. I'm glad you're here with us now.”  
  
“We can be your family until you find your own; I think of you as mine, too,” Hunk added. It had always been that simple for him. “Thank-you, for sharing today with us.”  
  
And there, for just a moment, glowing as a tiny dot in amongst the vastness of Earth’s sky, Pidge didn’t feel quite so far from home.


End file.
